


So Two Mutants Get Into A Car...

by Rinzler



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M, i got bored so i wrote it, the 'got into the wrong car au' that someone asked for a long time ago in a post, this one is for you theletteraesc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 11:08:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2267475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinzler/pseuds/Rinzler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik never thought he'd be grateful for airports. Charles never thought he'd be grateful for his own inability to notice little details like license plates. And everyone is unquestionably grateful, and more than a little impressed, that Erik has finally gotten a date.</p><p>(On indefinite hiatus until my muse stops running around and gives me my motivation back.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Two Mutants Get Into A Car...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aesc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aesc/gifts).



Erik tapped his fingers against the driver's wheel for what felt like the hundredth time. He was supposed to have picked Azazel up twenty minutes ago, and for some reason the man still wasn't here.

The lane in front of the airport was a steady stream of traffic, with cars coming and going, men and women and children- and the occasional teenager- rushing in and out of and once, into the airport doors. A man ran right into a closed glass door and Erik bit back a laugh at the dazed look on the man's face as he bounced back. Everyone was carrying luggage and umbrellas and all kinds of carry-on bags.

The lane was noisy and chaotic, and Erik could already feel a headache developing that would no doubt only get worse when he returned to work and dealing with pathetic engineers who likely only got jobs based on a paper malfunction. If he wasn't here to pick up Azazel, his closest and quite possibly his only friend, Erik would have driven away within five minutes of the other failing to show.

Erik knew that the Russian was more than capable of handling himself- after all, he was about eighty-five percent sure the man had been a high-ranking member of the Russian Mafia once- but twenty minutes? Maybe he should be worried.

Or he should drive off and leave the man to hail a taxi. Or teleport himself to his hotel.

Although the last time Azazel had done that with Erik, they had nearly given around sixty people heart attacks because they all thought the Devil himself had come and it was judgment day and they were all going to burn in hell forevermore for their sins.

Idiots.

Sighing, Erik pulled his phone out of his pocket and entered his passcode (so what if it was twenty-one digits long, that didn't make him paranoid, just secure), then began typing out a text to Azazel asking him where the hell he was.

Just as he was about to hit send, the passenger side door opened and someone sat down next to him, bringing with them the faint scent of tea and old books. Erik rolled his eyes. Definitely not a scent he would have ever expected Azazel to pick up- probably a good thing he had left Britain when he did. If Erik had picked him up any later, he might find Azazel wearing deerstalkers.

Erik turned his phone off as the person in the car next to him unzipped their bag and began rustling through it.

“Don't you have any other bags? I brought the car with the trunk, you know,” he said arrogantly, turning to face- Azazel?

Or..... not.

The man in the car seat next to him had whipped around at the sound of his voice and for a second there was total silence.

The man, whoever he was, had blue eyes and brown hair that curled just slightly, framing a cherubic face sprinkled with freckles. His hair looked windblown and disorderly, and his eyes were slightly clouded with faint shadows underneath, as though he had just pulled an all-nighter. Erik knew that look, he had seen it often enough on his classmates throughout college.

The sweater he wore- or was it a cardigan? He was probably British, the smell of Earl Grey a strong point in that favor, so a cardigan- was soft blue and bunched up at the elbows, with a gray dress shirt underneath that appeared to be tucked into his black jeans.

He was also most definitely not red skinned. Nor did he have a tail. Erik blinked.

And blinked again.

Then he frowned.

“I don't think you're the person I'm here to pick up.”

The man let out a small burst of laughter, before clapping a hand over his mouth as his eyes widened.

“Oh dear, and I don't think you're the person who's picking me up,” he said ruefully. Erik felt himself begin to grin in spite of himself as the man continued.

“I'm so terribly sorry, really I am, it's just this car looks so similar to my friend's- I'm rubbish at cars, by the way- and I'm running half an hour late and I guess I didn't really look. I'm Charles, by the way,” he added in a rush, extending his hand. “Charles Xavier.”

It took Erik a moment to decipher the British accent- oh, so he was British, Erik had assumed correctly-, and when he did, he extended his own hand and they shook.

“I assume you're taking the direct flight here from Heathrow?” Erik said.

“Oh, yes, I am, how did you know?” Charles said, sounding bemused.

Erik leaned back in his seat and shrugged. “I'm supposed to be picking up a friend who took the same flight. He's also running late. Maybe you saw him at the baggage claim or something- his name's Azazel?”

Charles frowned slightly. “No, I don't think I have, sorry, “ he said ruefully. “The most unique man on my flight was over six feet tall with bright red skin and a tail, and I don't think that's- Oh, wait,” he paused, looking at Erik, “That is him.”

Erik nodded and then narrowed his eyes. “How did you-”

Charles cleared his throat quietly. Erik noticed him settle one of his hands on the car door handle, the other cradling his bag of books closely. “I'm uh, a telepath. Sometimes after I've been awake for a long time, I find my mind gets mildly fuzzy and I can't stop myself from picking up the surface thoughts of others around me and um- sorry. Sorry. I'll just, um, go now.”

He opened the door and began to clamber out awkwardly.

“Wait!” Erik said, reaching out to grab one fragile wrist.

Charles stopped from where he had one leg out the door and turned to look at Erik. His expression was slightly guarded, and it took Erik barely a second to realize he was also hunching his shoulders, as though he expected to be attacked- verbally or physically- at any second.

“For God's sake, relax,” Erik snapped, releasing his hold on Charles' wrist and running his hand through his hair. “In case you haven't already figured it out, Azazel is clearly a mutant, and I don't have a problem with him. Except when he cheers for the wrong football team. Clearly I'm not going to have a problem with you.”

Charles gave a tight little smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. “That is an excellent point, but whatever powers he has, I assume they're not the same as mine. I've also discovered that not very many people tend to be comfortable around a man who can find out their deepest secrets with half a second of concentration,” he said.

Erik raised an eyebrow and regarded him as dispassionately as he could. “I've discovered that not very many people tend to be comfortable around a man who can kill them with half a second of concentration,” he said dryly. Seeing Charles' eyes widen, he decided to elaborate further. “No, I am not Death walking, I'm just a mutant too. I can control metal.”

Charles' eyes widened and his mouth dropped open slightly. Erik tried hard not to focus on the slightly parted, cherry-red lips.

“Can you control all types of metals? Or is it limited to just a few?” Charles said. “Limited as in the molecular composition, or the density, or the hardness of the metal? Do you have a limited range where your mutation becomes ineffective?” He sounded eager- scientific curiosity, Erik supposed. Charles was dressed like a British professor at any rate. He'd probably also never met anyone who had a mutation that was even remotely similar.

“You're a telepath, do you even need to be asking this?” Erik said.

Charles stopped rambling and closed his mouth with a snap, shooting a glare at Erik. “Just because I have the ability to read your mind doesn't mean I will, Mr.- uh- wait, you never did tell me your name, did you?” He said, going from angry to puzzled. Erik swallowed back a laugh.

“My name is Erik Lehnsherr,” he said. There was a slight pause as he worked out what to say next.

“I, um- I didn't mean to offend you when I said that about your telepathy,” Erik mumbled, half under his breath.

Charles sat up straighter in his seat and gave Erik a beaming smile. “Oh, it's quite alright, I'm sorry I became so angry at you. I really shouldn't have done that, it was a reasonable question, really,” he said.

Erik took a deep breath. “I, uh, I also think that's very noble and- righteous? Um, yes, righteous- of you to do that,” he said. When Charles just cocked his head to the side- a thin, loose curl falling over one of his eyes- Erik stuttered slightly, before swallowing and continuing to speak. “Refusing to read others' minds, I mean. I know one other telepath, and she normally just does whatever she wants, if she knows the other person at all. Permission doesn't really matter to her, so it's, well, wonderful that it does to you.”

Charles smiled again. This time, it was a slow curl of lips unfolding, his eyes going soft, and Erik could feel himself smiling back involuntarily. Charles' smile was the type that could make you do that, he supposed, it was like warmth and sunshine and acceptance all at once.

They were both silent for a minute, just smiling at each other. (Erik had to mentally remind himself that it was not socially acceptable to jump almost-strangers in a crowded public location where children were present.)

Then Erik remembered that Charles still had one of his legs out the door completely, and that wasn't going to cut it.

“Get back in the car properly,” he said, Charles laughing softly at the grumble as he rearranged his legs. Erik pulled the door shut with a flick of his finger, and a look that might have been awe crossed Charles' face as the noise of the airport around them was suddenly cut off. The silence made Erik realize just how loudly he had been talking, and he lowered his voice as he asked Charles, “The person who was supposed to pick you up- do you want to borrow my phone and call them?”

Charles shook his head as Erik reached into his coat and pulled out his phone, offering it to the other man. “Thank you, but no,” he said. “It was supposed to be an old friend, but we've never been very close in the first place. I doubt they'd stick around for half an hour, let alone ten minutes to pick me up.” Charles raised two fingers to his head, tapping them over his temple. “I also can't find their mind anywhere in this jumbled mess, so I suppose I'll just call for a taxi.”

“Got the money for that?” Erik asked skeptically. When Charles opened his mouth to respond, Erik waved him off. “Wait, no- I should be asking if you have the willpower. Most of the taxis around here are rarely cleaned and all the drivers take the longest possible route whenever they can to charge you as much as possible.”

Charles looked amused but also slightly horrified. “They rarely wash them?”

Erik nodded solemnly. “I'm pretty sure the last one I rode in hadn't been cleaned since it was built,” he said. Charles shuddered.

“That sounds perfectly awful. I suppose it'd be too much to ask for a ride from you, however, considering I've just invaded your space so much,” he said.

Erik shrugged. “Then you presume wrong,” he said. “I can give you a ride to wherever you're staying once Azazel gets here.”

“I think he forgot you were picking him up,” Charles said. “I saw him disappear in what looked like a swirl of smoke once he had picked up his bags from the baggage. Fascinating mutation, really, teleportation.”

Erik stared as Charles kept on talking. “It's one of the rarest and least explored, I think there have been less than a hundred mutants on record with the ability to move locations entirely. Most mutants that have the ability to travel quickly over large distances have speed-related mutations, or can bend time. I know one brilliant young man who could use shadows to travel from one location to another, but it tires him out enormously.”

Charles stopped talking when he realized Erik was staring openly at him. “Oh, sorry, did I ramble on? That's a bad habit, I must get rid of it sometime soon,” he said.

“I'm beginning to think I was right in assuming you were some type of professor,” Erik said. “You're far too intelligent to be a student.”

Charles laughed outright. “I am a Professor, so you would be right in your assumption,” he said delightedly. “I teach genetics at Oxford.”

Erik did a double-take. “You need a PhD for that! And you barely look twenty-one!” He cried, aghast.

Charles pouted and slouched backwards in his seat, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I'll have you know I'm twenty-six and a right proper genius, thank you,” he huffed.

Erik rolled his eyes. “No need to get grouchy.”

Charles stuck out his tongue and Erik gaped openly. “There! See! You can't be twenty-six! What kind of responsible twenty-six-year-old stick out their tongue at people?” Erik said. Charles smirked. “I never said I was responsible,” he said.

Erik groaned under his breath as Charles attempted to muffle his laughter. He didn't do a very effective job.

“Do you have any other bags, or is it just the one?” Erik said, trying to get the conversation back on track.

“Just the one,” Charles said. “I had all my luggage shipped separately to my room. Less of a chance of it getting lost.”

“In Britain, maybe,” Erik retorted. “Never underestimate American incompetency.” He reached out with one hand and levitated Charles' bag over their shoulders and into the backseat. Concentrating on the metal buckle on the seatbelt, Erik drew it out and looped it deftly through the bag's handles before going around its front and neatly securing it in place by buckling it in.

“If one didn't presume better they might think you guilty of showing off, Erik,” Charles teased.

Erik buckled himself in using his powers, keeping his hands on the wheel as he turned the key in the ignition. “Not really,” he said truthfully. “I just use them for practical reasons, and there's no reason now for me not to, since I know you won't run away screaming.”

“Run away screaming?” Charles said as he buckled himself in. “I have a feeling there's quite the interesting story behind that.”

“And one that I will never tell,” Erik said. “Except maybe if I get drunk enough.”

They shared a grin.

**Author's Note:**

> INSPIRED BY THIS POST: http://theletteraesc.tumblr.com/post/87054608615/camillamacaulayy-grinchtaire  
> The got-into-the-wrong-car AU. Cherik'd.


End file.
